Page 18 of One Night for Seduction
“Yes, yes,” he interrupted impatiently. “I recall every word of your argument. It won’t convince a single person to switch from yards to meters. Try to focus on the topic at hand.”
Diana was more focused than ever.
He remembered every word of her argument? She hadn’t believed he was paying attention at all. This development made her dream to bend the ear of Parliament seem… well, perhaps not easily attainable, but at least less far-fetched. She tilted her head and considered him anew.
While most women likely took one look at his sultry, endless hazel gaze and schemed to become his duchess, Diana wished to become something far more impactful: acolleague. A sounding-board. A trusted source. When the duke was off crafting laws for the citizens of England, she wanted to be the voice in the back of his mind.
“Cole,” his sister called. “Perhaps we could all go to Gunter’s for ices?”
“No,” Diana said quickly. “That is, I very much appreciate the offer, but my cousin and I are otherwise promised.”
Colehaven bowed. “Perhaps next time.”
Next time.
Hope buoyed her as he led his sister down the street. Diana pressed her hands to her chest. Instead of spending her nights drafting anonymous letters that never received answers, how heady would it be to have a member of Parliament listen to her words and consider her perspective?
She let out a long sigh. A powerful lord welcoming the counsel of an ordinary woman was a situation so unheard of as to be outright fanciful. Yet even the faint possibility of being taken seriouslyas herselfwas more than she had ever dreamed.
But how would she accomplish such a feat? She had no idea how to gain his ear, much less his trust. A small smile played at the edges of her lips.
This was the perfect opportunity for a bit of reconnaissance.
Chapter 7
Within the hour, Diana presented herself at the rear entrance to the Wicked Duke tavern after a few minor adjustments.
Gone was her flamboyant bonnet. Rather than return to her measures inspectress guise, she tucked her hair beneath a mobcap and tied an apron about her waist so that its telltale frill was visible below the hem of her nondescript coat. After draping a threadbare shawl about her shoulders, Diana gathered her basket and prepared to infiltrate the Duke of Colehaven’s lair.
Excitement pulsed through her blood. She did not rap upon the half-open servants’ door.
She walked right in.
Clinking glasses and murmured laughter filled what appeared to be the primary kitchen. Two lads were washing and drying plates and mugs whilst a trio of women prepared delicious-smelling meals at the stove and over the fire. To the right was a well-stocked scullery. To the left, a brewing chamber. Diana slipped inside.
Except for the copper kettle, most of the equipment was crafted from fine wood. A lad cracked malted barley in one corner, whilst another strained mash into a barrel. Across the room, a brewer stirred the giant copper.
“Jimmy, give me that yeast,” he called out.
The two lads glanced up from their tasks with wide, startled eyes. Either neither of them was Jimmy, or they were both too green to know hops from yeast.
“Jimmy,” the brewer snapped without looking up. “Yeast,now.”
Neither lad moved a muscle.
Diana moved closer.
“Where’s Jimmy?” she whispered.
“Takin’ care of his mum,” one of the lads whispered back. “Slipped on a patch of ice, she did. He’s afraid he’ll lose his post if the master finds out. We’re trying to cover for him.”
“Good work,” Diana murmured. Mums—and friends—ought to be taken care of.
But beer wasn’t going to brew itself.
She glanced about the chamber in search of the missing yeast. Taking care to keep her face hidden by the brim of her mobcap, she hastened to bring the yeast to the brewer and handed it up in silence.
He grunted his acceptance without sparing her so much as a glance.
